


Shoot For The Moon

by cruentum



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: writerinadrawer, WriterInADrawer 4.05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cruentum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is part of a short-duration writing contest.  Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed.  If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Shoot For The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.

Most days the Hub was Jack's batcave, the secret hideaway superhero base that people should put into comics. Other days, when friends died, when blood spilled because they were a beat too slow and not quite on their mark, it became a dark, damp hole he couldn't wait to leave. He'd told his team to go home and mourn a few dead people before they became as jaded as he was, as ready to build a spaceship (and he could from all they'd salvaged) and walk away.

Jack sat in the conference room, at the head of the empty table, and studied his reflection in the glass opposite. He popped a few nuts from the bowl into his mouth, licked his fingers, then sat back in his chair and idly spun the phone on the table top with his damp hand.

Wasn't a question of _if_, his leaving again. It was only a question of _when_.

Every time he came back, the strings binding him to this one place and time had pulled a bit tighter. And, having his cake and eating it, he wanted it all: this and the rest of the universe.

Jack wasn't surprised when Ianto appeared in the doorway, defying his orders to take a breather, looking delectable and a bit wind-ruffled in the suit, red cheeks and lips and his tongue inching out to poke at the corner of his mouth. Jack would be leaving that behind, and the strings tugged at his gut and black little heart. He skidded the phone across the table, partially spilling the nut bowl. Ianto caught it before it crash-landed underneath the table.

"Piece of tech. Psychic." Jack waved his hand. "Physics. Anyway, calls anywhere, anytime, and I mean, anytime. Ancient Romans, does the trick. Thing is, it's nearly out of zing. Different power sources, don't ask. So you have one call. Anywhere, anytime, anyone." Jack paused and rolled the nuts across the table, not looking at Ianto. "Too many people I would call, it's useless to me, but my number for this," he held up the wrist with his vortex manipulator, looked right at Ianto, "is programmed in. Wherever I am, whenever, you can call me."

Ianto looked at the phone in his hand. "You're leaving?"

"No, I'm-"

"KFC don't deliver, do they?" Jack shook his head when Ianto punched in numbers, something catching on the strings inside of him. "Meatfeast good with you? Hate the coleslaw they do. Urgh, vegetables. Jubilee Pizza, yes...Busta Rhymes here."

Jack listened to Ianto calling someplace now, someplace around the corner, someone not him, and there was nothing he could do. Ianto talked his way through the order and then closed the phone, set it on the table and skidded it back to Jack. It dropped off the table into Jack's lap, taking a nut with it.

"I don't live in hypotheticals, Jack," Ianto said.

"But in pizza?"

"It's _Meatfeast_," Ianto replied, as if that explained everything.

And it did.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.


End file.
